Alliance
by ALEO
Summary: Investigating a series of occult related murders in Los Angeles FBI Special Agent Eppes has another encounter with Dean Winchester. Crossover from a Numb3rs POV , nine chapters in all. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Numb3rs/Supernatural: Alliance**

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs, Supernatural and associated characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

_**Spoilers - Numb3rs: **__Hotshot; Thirteen. - __**Supernatural**__: nil._

_**A/N:**__ This follows on from my fic "Doubt", making this fourth in a crossover series which started with "Unexplained". Whilst there is some mention of the previous history between the characters, this could be read on its own. This is not set in any particular season of either series._

_Investigating a series of occult related murders in Los Angeles FBI Special Agent Eppes has another encounter with Dean Winchester._

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE **

FBI Special Agent Don Eppes noticed the black Impala in his mirror as it pulled in behind him, illuminated by a streetlight he'd just passed. He'd glanced away to check the rest of the traffic behind him before the realisation hit him, he knew that Impala. His eyes went back to the reflection and he determined that the vehicle only held one man, the second that he'd expected to see was apparently not there. The agent continued driving, taking a turn, then another as he considered what to do. The Impala followed, but he noted it weaved somewhat in the lane and took the corners wide. As he watched the vehicle again drifted before sharply correcting and returning to the middle of the lane. Something was wrong.

Coming to a decision he entered a number into his cell phone that he'd thought he might never call. It was the cell that had been stolen from him during a previous encounter and had been left active by the FBI in the hope that the man now tailing him would use it. There was also supposed to be a trap and trace in place on the line but if he could believe what he'd been told last time they'd met it had been disabled.

"'_bout time,"_ the gruff voice responded as the call went through.

"What do you want?" Don's question was a shade less than polite.

"_Need your help,"_ Dean Winchester managed.

Don frowned and stared at the silhouette in his mirror. The voice wasn't just rough, the man sounded like he was in pain. "Help for what?"

"_Pull up so we can talk."_

"No way," Don flatly refused. This was a far safer way of dealing with him. He remembered only too well how his previous dealings with the man had gone. At least driving along in separate vehicles he had some control over the encounter this time.

"_Owe me."_

That was possibly correct but Don remained stubborn, repeating his question. "What do you want?"

"_Damned fed,"_ Dean growled. Another couple of blocks went by before he continued. _"It's for Sam."_

That appealed to his brotherly instincts and Don knew that was exactly what Dean intended. Still, he couldn't help himself, "What's happened to him? Where is he?"

"_Don't know."_ The voice broke off in a pained gasp as they negotiated another corner. _"Dammit, Fed. Pull up."_

Hanging up on the call Don gave it some serious consideration. The Winchester brothers had seriously scared him last time they'd met. Well, technically not then but the time before that, in the graveyard when the younger Winchester had sliced open his arm whilst the elder held him at gunpoint. He'd expected to be tortured and killed for some sick game but then something else had happened and he'd survived. He was not forgetting that incident for as long as he lived. Involuntarily his gaze fell onto the scars on his arm that still carried a faintly silver tinge rather than the normal flesh tone of scar tissue. They had claimed that he'd been attacked by a werewolf and that their violent actions had been to prevent him becoming permanently infected. He was still not fully decided on what he believed but something odd had happened that night and the Winchester's explanation was the only one that seemed to fit the evidence. If he accepted that then they had in all probability saved him and following that argument to its logical conclusion, he did owe them.

Almost before the decision had been consciously made he turned into the next street where he knew there was a small parking lot out the front of a business that would be closed and deserted at this hour. The thought of pulling up in a more public area had crossed his mind but if it did go bad he didn't want the possibility of innocent people being caught up. Don was more than aware that a secluded area gave the wanted man an advantage but it also reduced the number of potential hostages that could be used against him. It would be just him and the older Winchester, one-on-one. Normally he would consider that good odds but he was not as confident where Dean was involved. He reached the entrance and as he'd expected the business was closed and the lot was empty. Pulling in he swung in an arc until the nose of the SUV was pointed back towards the street, ready to pull out in a hurry if this was all a trap. He put the vehicle in park and pulled on the handbrake but left the engine running as the Impala followed him in and stopped without any finesse.

Don waited, his hand on his gun but Dean didn't make any move to get out of his car. Finally Don decided it was up to him. He pushed open his door and slowly moved around the front of his SUV, pulling his gun from its holster. It was somewhat of a bad move tactically as he was visible against his own headlights but he did not want to lose sight of the Impala, not even for the time brief time it would take him to move more safely around the back of his SUV. As he moved closer to the black sedan he realised he hadn't called in his location, even if he wouldn't have called in why he was stopping, but it was too late now. Backing away would not be a smart move as it could put the other at an advantage. Cautiously he continued, aiming his weapon at the driver as he approached the side of the car. Dean didn't react in kind, sitting still and simply staring at the agent. Now Don was close enough to reach the door handle so he did, pulling the door open and taking a half step back as he snapped his gun up. Dean still didn't react with violence even as the agent noted that he had his hand on the grip of the pearl handled Colt that was resting on his lap.

"Hands up," Don ordered.

"Uh-uh," Dean countered. "Not here to be arrested."

"Haven't arrested you," Don responded then gave the matter some thought. It was a very valid point, the Winchester was fairly high on the wanted list and he was a duty bound LEO. "Yet."

"Won't be either."

Don decided to ignore the bravado and got on with it. "Why are you here?"

"We thought we were hunting something," Dean started before shifting slightly and gasping in obvious pain. "Turned out wasn't what we thought."

Taking the risk Don moved a little closer. In the dim light from a nearby street light he could see glistening black patches on Dean's shoulder and side. The man was wounded and had bled heavily, was still bleeding.

"What happened?"

"Turns out it was human. We weren't prepared for human. He shot me and got Sam."

"Got Sam? What do you mean 'got' Sam?"

"He took him. Gonna kill him next."

"The Hunter," Don put it together.

The serial killer dubbed 'The Hunter' had been terrorising the city for the last couple of months. The time between killings was slowly reducing, the last five days ago. The next, according to Charlie's calculations was due tomorrow. He could see how the serial killer's actions would have drawn the Winchesters. There was a ritualistic style to the killings, the removal of the victim's heart the grand finale. The pathologists had determined the victims had all still been alive and, most disturbingly, possibly even conscious at that point.

"Yeah," Dean confirmed. "Need your help to get Sammy back."

"Alright. I'll call EMTs for you and we'll get –" Don cut himself off as the Colt lifted. He took a hasty step back, jerking his gun up and back onto target. "Woah! Put it down."

"Not going to be taken in," Dean insisted. The gun stayed up even if the hand shook. "I don't often call in favours from cops but I'm askin' for your help. You don't want to give it I'll do this my way."

"Doesn't look like you're up for much at the moment," Don commented as the other's gun drooped slightly. He kept his guard and his gun up as he didn't for a moment doubt that the Winchester would find a reserve of strength somewhere if he tried to take him by force.

"Can do what I need to," Dean warned. After holding the agent's gaze for a few seconds he grunted and glanced at his injuries allowing his gun to lower even further. "When I get patched up. You gonna help or what?"

It wasn't that simple. What the man was asking him to do, at least in the short term was harbour a fugitive. That sort of thing was a career-ender at the very least, at worst it could land him in jail. He should be taking advantage of this all but gift wrapped opportunity and make an arrest that would be one of the biggest of his career. But if he believed what happened back in that graveyard he did owe the Winchesters and Don was not one to welsh on a debt. It was a quandary that his conscience and honour argued both ways. He had a duty to perform and he had a debt to pay.

He had a sudden idea, he could use this, could treat the older Winchester as a confidential informant. It wouldn't be the first time that someone's crimes were allowed to slide in order to gain important intel. Granted the charges were not normally as serious or as numerous as those pending against either of the Winchester brothers but it seemed that Dean could possibly have some much needed information on the serial killer. The Winchester brothers had obviously found the man leading to their violent confrontation which was far more than the FBI had managed. They desperately needed a break and Dean could give it to them. At the very least a life could be saved.

Dean correctly took Don's silence for silent debate and added his own encouragement. "I could tell them I forced you to help me at gunpoint."

Don looked at the gun that was once again resting in Dean's lap. It was still a potential threat and the Winchester's offer could well become fact but Don understood where the other was coming from. Dean would try to make it look like the agent was under duress if they were caught. There were ways to do that even if he retained his weapon.

The agent also realised that he'd already made his decision to help the man, in the interim at least. Feeling guilty he glanced around and was reassured when he saw no potential witnesses to his imminent crime. Working a confidential informant or not he knew his bosses would be highly unlikely to let this one go if they found him out. Taking another moment he gave it second thoughts then resolutely holstered his gun. His adrenalin immediately spiked as he rendered himself effectively helpless against the weapon in Dean's hand.

"Knew I could count on you," Dean said as he relaxed back against the seat.

Don breathed again as he saw Dean relax his grip on his weapon. He got himself into gear. "We need to get you somewhere safe."

"Your place seems good."

"What? No!"

"Your girlfriend's outta town and no-one else is likely to drop by," Dean argued.

Don's eyes narrowed. The Winchesters had to have been watching him to know that Robin was off at a conference in Washington and that he rarely received visitors. The thought that they'd been following him and he'd not even sensed it sent a shiver down his spine. Reluctantly he let that go as unimportant right now. Hiding the man at his apartment just dug him all the deeper into trouble but Dean was right, no one was likely to visit him at home. It was also the last place anyone would expect to find a fugitive, assuming anyone even suspected the Winchesters were in LA.

"We need to get you into my car. Can you move?"

Dean shook his head. "Thought I'd follow you."

"You up for that?" As much as he liked the idea given it was much safer for him with less chance of discovery, he wasn't sure that Dean could manage to drive any further.

"Not far to go," Dean said as he straightened and started his engine. "I'm good."

He was far from good but Don saw the determination and believed that Dean could do it. It really wasn't far, just another few blocks to his apartment building. He closed the Impala's door just barely managing not to slam it. "Fine."

Climbing back into his SUV he hesitated gazing over at the waiting sedan. He could back out of his agreement, he could call this in and have Dean arrested when they arrived at his apartment. It wouldn't be breaking his word as he'd not actually given it, and 'somewhere safe' could be just as easily a secured ward at hospital. That thought more than appealed to him but if he did that he would also lose an opportunity to catch the serial killer. The life they might save by catching the serial killer now may well be one of the most wanted men in the States but the lives potentially at risk after that if the Hunter continued his activities also needed saving.

A deep sigh escaped him as he knew he had no other option for now. Putting the SUV into gear he drove out and back onto the road, checking his mirror to see Dean successfully pull into place behind him.

.


	2. Chapter 2

Numb3rs/Supernatural: Alliance

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs, Supernatural and associated characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

_**Spoilers - Numb3rs: **__Hotshot; Thirteen. - __**Supernatural**__: nil._

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

Don decided not to drive underneath his building to his parking space suspecting that Dean wouldn't follow him into an area that would potentially trap him even if it concealed his distinctive car from public view. Pulling into a guest spot near the public entrance instead he watched as the Impala continued on before parking in a space in the end. The space was darker than the others being furthest away from the inadequate lighting

Refusing to hesitate again, even as guilt started to gnaw at him, Don shut his SUV down and walked over to find Dean struggling to climb out of the low slung car. Pulling the door fully open Don offered his hand. After a brief pause the injured man accepted his help.

Once out of the car though Dean stubbornly pulled himself free and shoved his Colt into the front of his belt, pulling his shirt out to cover it. Supporting himself against the Impala Dean moved around to the back of his car and opened the trunk, the hinges protesting. Nervous at the delay Don couldn't help the scan around for witnesses before he joined the other man at the trunk. Wondering what Dean need so urgently he looked in and stopped still in surprise.

Don had seen some strange things in the trunks of cars, anything and everything from dead bodies to kidnapping kits to meth labs but never anything like the arsenal that littered the Impala. There were even things clipped to the underside of what was clearly a false bottom. The guns, crossbows and knives Don could easily identify but there were other things that made less sense, wooden crosses, voodoo dolls and things that looked very much like leather medicine bags. Then there was the stuff that he simply didn't have a clue about. With no small degree of alarm he watched as Dean started shoving various weapons and other objects, including a large container of salt and lighter fluid, into a second bag. Another bag was already waiting on the pavement.

"You really need all that?" Don demanded. Of all the items it was perhaps the salt and lighter fluid that actually concerned him the most considering what he'd seen done with them and what he'd once thought was going to be done to him.

"Yep," Dean grunted. He made a few more selections before zipping the bag closed and hefting it out with another grunt, clearly it was heavy. He glared at the hovering agent, "That a problem?"

Don started to bristle at the challenging tone but as he opened his mouth to retort he remembered who he was about to argue with and just how deep he'd already gotten himself into the situation. The old English adage _'in for a penny, in for a pound'_ seemed very apt. The weapons and other things in the bag were no more a threat to him than the gun in Dean's belt. Swallowing back his words he cautiously held out a hand. "It's heavy. I'll carry it."

"No offence, Fed, but I got it."

"Fine," Don snapped. He reached instead for the other bag, finding it relatively light.

Together they headed towards the building and Don reminded himself not to be surprised as Dean pressed the button for his floor when they entered the elevator. Less than a minute later they were standing outside his apartment with Dean clearly assessing the lay of the land, noting exits and entries. He was sure though that Dean already had them memorised given the brothers' obvious interest in him and this was more a refresher.

Once again Don found himself stalling, the empty but brightly lit hallway making what he was about to do all the more real. There was no going back once he opened his door and invited the man in. _Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to harbour a man who had a permanent spot on the national FBI Most Wanted list? _ He turned his attention to the man waiting beside him and found Dean staring steadily back allowing the agent to make his own decision without any further pressure. He'd crossed lines before but this was a big one. Finally realising the longer they stood in the corridor the more likely they would be discovered Don shoved his key into the lock and opened the door.

"Nice," Dean commented as he followed the agent in. "Not for me, but nice."

Now it was Don that grunted as he closed and locked the door, sliding the chain across for good measure. He'd seen the types of hotels the brothers usually stayed in and compared to them his apartment was five star. Shaking his head he got his mind back on track as Dean made an unsteady beeline towards the couch. The thought of blood on his furniture got Don moving. Explaining away bloodstains later would be hard, assuming he managed to get out of this situation in one piece that was. "Wait, let me get a blanket."

Putting down the bag he was carrying he went to the linen closet in the hall sorting through the shelves until he found what he needed. Dean was clearly struggling but he was still on his feet when Don returned with an old heavy woollen blanket and waited as it was spread over the couch. Dean finally dropped his heavy bag and gently eased himself down before laying back. If Don hadn't been watching closely he would have missed the brief flash of relief before Dean schooled his face back to its usual expression.

He couldn't just let the man suffer, or worse die on his couch. "I'm not a doctor but I'll get my kit and see what I can do."

"Got my own," Dean responded, waving his hand at the bag the agent had been carrying.

That made sense, Don thought. Given the lives the brothers led a well stocked first aid kit would be just as essential as their assortment of weapons. He retrieved the bag from near his door and put it up on the coffee table. Shrugging out of his jacket he tossed it onto the other couch before rolling up his sleeves. "Can you get your shirt off?"

"I think I'll wait until my friend gets here."

"Friend?" Don demanded as he froze feeling that things were heading south, pretty much as he'd expected. At the moment it was just the fugitive and himself, no one else knew what he was doing and with the other man seriously wounded he had some measure of control over the situation. "I'm not having any of your friends here."

"Don't worry, Fed. He's not stayin'," Dean reassured. "Just gonna patch me up and get outta your hair."

"No," Don insisted as he tried to be firm. "Unless he's a doctor-"

"He's a witch."

"A what?"

A cocky grin flashed across Dean's face at the agent's reaction followed by a wince as he shifted to make himself a little more comfortable. "Better than any doctor. I need to get back on my feet quickly so we can get Sam. Already called him, he's gonna be here soon."

Shaking his head Don couldn't help repeating, "A witch."

"Yeah, they exist too," Dean continued clearly enjoying the moment despite his injuries. "But he's a bit wary of cops. You might want to lose the badge."

He found himself pulling his badge off his belt before his thoughts caught up with him. Tightening his fist around it he glared at the injured man, whatever control he thought he had over the situation was clearly not hampering Dean doing whatever the hell he wanted. Sure he could probably refuse to open his door, assuming Dean didn't make good on his earlier threat, but that would only land him back at square one and no closer to finding The Hunter and stopping him.

The hole he was in was just getting deeper but he'd already made his decision so he just had to see it through. Shoving the badge deep into his pocket he scanned the area around him, spying a photograph Nikki had given him of himself in tac gear standing with the rest of the team after a major bust a few months back. He grabbed the offending picture and shoved it into a drawer in the kitchen. Another pass showed nothing else that could identify him as law enforcement. He suddenly felt like an interloper in his own apartment.

"Got any beer?" Dean asked hopefully. "Or whiskey?"

Don headed back to the lounge room. "Sure, but I don't think you should have any in your condition."

Dean's answering grunt sounded like he didn't agree with his host's assessment but wasn't going to push the point.

"You sure you don't want me to have a look?" Don asked waving a hand at Dean's bloodied chest.

"Nah," Dean waved him off. "I'm good."

The fugitive was far from good but there was nothing for it but to leave it alone. A glance at his watch didn't help anything but the familiar movement felt reassuring. Sitting on the opposite couch he saw his fridge and Dean's request for a beer suddenly made him thirsty. He needed a beer but he also needed to keep his wits about him so he settled for getting down to business. He was holding up his end of the bargain, it was now time for Dean to hold up his.

"What happened?"

"Now?"

"Now," Don repeated. "You want my help to get Sam back we need to get all the info on The Hunter we can. The sooner we do that the sooner we get to your brother."

Dean couldn't argue with that. He lay back with a grunt. "We got here just before Best's last kill."

"Best?" Don interrupted, leaning forward. "You know his name?"

"You don't?" At the agent's glare Dean continued. "Damien Best. He's a dick but he used to be one of us."

"'Us'? A hunter?" Don remembered the Winchester's term for themselves. He also realised something else. "Oh."

"Yeah. Go figure. The papers actually got it right."

"So he's just like you and Sam, believes in witches and werewolves." He squashed the thoughts that his own belief that these things didn't exist was severely shaken.

"And everything else out there that you don't want to believe in." Dean added, unable to help the dig. "He used to do what we do before he went darkside."

"Darkside?"

"Got off on the killing. Started going after real people, not just demons and monsters. Just wish we'd figured all this out before trying to trap him." The self blame in Dean's voice was all too clear. "We thought he'd been taken over and that we could trap and banish the demon or spirit using him as a meat suit."

Suspending disbelief for a moment Don asked the most logical question. "You used magic on him?"

"Yeah and it seemed to be working until we got too close and he grabbed Sam and shot me."

Don found it hard to swallow that one man had been able to take on the Winchester brothers and not only survive but take one prisoner whilst severely wounding the other. He was a good agent, well trained and field tested in both weapons and hand to hand combat but even he had barely stood a chance against just Dean with Sam otherwise distracted during their previous physical encounters. Against both brothers together he wouldn't have even had a showing. "He's that good?"

"Hardly," Dean scoffed.

"You're here," Don got his own dig in.

"Yeah," Dean accepted the point. "He let us think what we were doing was working. Sam got too close."

Don could understand how that would work. It was a constant fear of his that someone would get to Charlie and would use his younger brother against him. Dean had already proven that. He moved on, "Then what happened?"

"What do you think, Fed?" Dean suddenly snapped in anger, half rising. "You think I didn't do everything to get Sam back?"

Holding up both hands Don sat back. "Hey, easy." Clearly the guilt at failing his younger brother was eating at the older Winchester. "Sorry. I know you tried. I can see that. How did he get away? Where did he take him?"

"You think if I knew that I'd be here?"

At the increasing anger directed his way Don conceded, "Point."

"Damn straight, point. Stupid fed," Dean said taking out some of his frustration. He eased himself back and stared over at the federal agent, taking some careful breaths to calm down before he continued. "I don't know, he put me down and had Sam out cold. I didn't see how he got away."

He couldn't help but feel sympathy at the emotional pain in Dean's voice. "We'll work it out," he offered. "Tell me everything you can about Damien Best."

.


	3. Chapter 3

Numb3rs/Supernatural: Alliance

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs, Supernatural and associated characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

Don waited silently as he saw the struggle Dean was having against his nature, understanding that talking about people like him to outsiders was against whatever code he lived by. His patience was rewarded a couple of minutes later as Dean started talking.

Damien Best was born and raised in Alliance, Nebraska. Best came to hunting late, not starting until his mid-teens after he was attacked by a creature out of folklore one night out in one of the town's fields. He survived and discovered an aptitude for violence that was a necessary skill for hunters. He was shaky on lore but with a little help from other hunters learnt what he needed. As time went on his confidence grew and he soon started going after deadlier and more dangerous creatures alone. His reputation was earning him a place in conversations amongst hunters that included mentions of the Winchester brothers. It had been suggested in more than a few hunter bars that they should team up as together they would be able to take on the worst of the monsters out there.

Dean sneered as he recounted that but Don didn't interrupt.

About a year or so ago things started to change. Rumours started revolving around the worrying trait of how collateral damage, always a regretful risk in a hunter's life, seemed to be increasing on his hunts. As time went on it seemed that there were less and less monsters being taken down by Best even as the body count of innocents continued to rise. Worried, the hunter community tried to seek him out to find out what had happened but those that had planned to speak with him were later found in various states of dismemberment. There was never enough to prove it until now but Dean had started to believe that Best was responsible. Finally, hearing about a sequence of deaths in Los Angeles which seemed to bear all of Best's hallmarks and even worse had a strong resemblance to a long and seriously powerful summoning spell the Winchesters had started their own hunt.

Certain that Best had been taken over by a demon or spirit they'd planned for every eventuality and finally tracked him to an abandoned house in South Central LA. There it had all gone to hell. They'd caught Best in a demon trap and Sam started running through their prepared spells. Best had resisted them but soon seemed to respond, calming and pleading for their help. That was when Sam got too close and Best simply stepped out of the supposed trap and got a knife to his throat. Dean had been helpless but had tried anyway, getting himself shot and left for dead as Best took Sam away, unconscious after his own struggle failed.

"We're gonna find him and get Sammy back," Dean finished. The fierce determination in his voice left no doubt he meant what he said.

"We'll get him," Don agreed. With what the other man had just given him they had far better shot at finding Best than they'd had before. There was still more that could help them, "What type of car does he drive?"

"He's got a black -" Dean started but stopped, his eyes going vacant for a moment.

Concerned that Dean may have been succumbing to his injuries Don rushed over but Dean blinked and looked up. "He's here."

About to ask who Don remembered they were expecting someone. He looked to the door but there was no sound. Frowning he turned back to see Dean jerk his head at the door.

Moving quietly Don went to his door and peered through the peephole. A small man, barely five foot tall, stood there waiting as if confident his arrival had been announced. As best he could tell no one else was in the corridor but ever wary, and needing the reassurance, Don drew his Glock.

"Uh, uh," Dean grunted from behind him.

Turning cautiously Don saw Dean aiming his Colt at him.

"Put it away, Fed," Dean ordered. As the agent hesitated he continued, "It's for your own good. You've no idea what he'd do if you pulled a gun on him."

Putting his gun away was far from being told to put his gun down. He still wasn't sure how much of Dean's world he believed in but he knew he was out of his depth in most of it. After another moment Don complied, holstering his Glock. Once Dean had shoved his own gun back into his belt he turned back to the door, removing the chain and unlocking it. He pulled it open far enough to let the man in then quickly shut it again.

The man walked in as if he owned the apartment. Stopping at the coffee table to put his bag down he waited for the agent to finish locking up and join them.

Don returned the appraising look, seeing a fairly ordinary looking short, thin man wearing an old but serviceable suit. The bag was a well used, if somewhat clichéd, black doctor's bag. With the half spectacles on his face the man, who Don judged to be in his early 50s, looked for all the world like an ordinary doctor. The agent figured he was probably struck off the register if he regularly dealt with people like the Winchesters but a doctor nonetheless.

Then Don looked in the eyes and saw a flash of something he would later try to tell himself he imagined. Whatever it was it had him stepping back in sudden trepidation. His hand twitched but remembering Dean's warning it stayed empty at his side. Don changed his mind, this was no ordinary doctor. Or man. He remembered Dean's term, _witch_. Right now he could believe it.

"Smart one, this one," the man, the witch, finally said glancing away from the agent to his patient.

"Maybe," Dean answered.

"He listens to you," the witch insisted.

Dean found that amusing if his snort was anything to go by.

"But, hiding the badge doesn't change who he is," he added giving Dean a disapproving look.

"Well, like you say," Dean started, glancing at the uneasy agent. "He listens to me."

"Mmpf," the witch grunted. Instead of walking out he started rummaging through his bag. The coffee table was soon littered with various articles, some of which Don could identify, some he couldn't. Keeping his distance and his silence he watched as the man picked up some scissors and cut away Dean's shirt. Seeing the bloody bullet wounds clearly for the first time he could only be amazed that Dean wasn't already dead let alone fully conscious and mobile.

"Make yourself useful and get some warm water," The witch ordered, turning to the hovering agent. "And something to clean away the blood."

Backing away Don went to his kitchen and got the water in a large bowl and a roll of paper towel. He returned and found a small vacant spot on the coffee table where he put the bowl down. Holding out the paper towel for the witch to take he swallowed at the look he received.

"What are you looking at me for?" The witch snapped. "You carry a gun and know how to use it. Surely you know how to clean up the mess they make?"

Not game to open his mouth and risk antagonising the witch any further he moved carefully around to where he could reach Dean's injuries. He dug into his pocket for the pair of latex gloves he kept there for emergencies and slipped them onto his hands. Wetting some paper towel with the warm water Don paused as he saw Dean's gun was no longer tucked into the front of his jeans but was being held in his hand. He shared a challenging glance but when Dean didn't move Don started working at Dean's chest and side, carefully cleaning the blood away and using up half the roll before he was done. The bullet wounds were still sluggishly bleeding so he reached for Dean's medical bag intending to find some sterile gauze but found the witch blocking him.

"What are you doing?"

"I-," Don trailed off.

"Get out of my way."

Scrambling back Don moved back, stopping only when he was several yards away where he could watch safely. Given everything else he wasn't surprised when he saw the mortar and pestle from the witch was now scraping a mashed up green substance onto a piece of white cloth. He put more of the green substance onto two other pieces of folded cloth before putting the mortar and pestle aside. He figured he was looking at some form of herbal poultice, popular in faith healing and very old school medicine. The witch reached next for a jar and carefully took a pinch of powder that he sprinkled lightly over each poultice. He wasn't expecting the knife to be produced and slashed across the heel of the witch's left hand, the blood allowed to drip three times on each of the poultices. It was certainly a trick of the light that the cut on the witch's hand closed itself up. Dean seemed unconcerned as the witch carefully placed the blood contaminated poultices directly onto the bullet wounds.

The witch picked up a piece of leather covered wood that he handed to his patient. Taking a deep breath Dean placed it between his teeth and clamped down. He shoved his gun back into the top of his jeans before gripping the edges of the cushions he was lying on. He appeared to set himself and then nodded as if he was ready. The witch then lightly touched two fingers once to the back of each piece of cloth. As the man moved his fingers away Don was almost sure that he saw a glowing mark, shaped like some sort of occult symbol fading into the cloth.

Dean's eyes screwed shut as a grunt escaped him. His back suddenly arched as a long groan made it past the leather covered wood in his mouth.

Don blinked as he saw what looked like steam rising from the back of the poultices and decided enough was enough, stepping forward with the intention of intervening. Whatever the man was doing it clearly wasn't helping Dean. He made it only one pace before the witch flung up a hand and Don suddenly stopped, feeling as if he'd just walked into an invisible brick wall. He tried to move his hands, automatically trying to push at whatever was in front of him when he realised he couldn't move at all. Refusing to look at the witch's eyes Don strained to move forward before an idea struck him and he backed off. He could move again.

Without conscious thought he reacted instinctively, right hand going to the grip of his gun. He suddenly froze as he saw the witch raise his arm again, drawing it back but seemingly halting mid-move as Don froze.

"He trusts you," the witch said as Dean convulsed on the couch, moaning in pain. "I don't. I also don't like cops or guns. Draw that thing and I'll turn you inside out."

Don couldn't see any weapon in the man's raised hand but then he hadn't seen whatever the hell it was that stopped him in his tracks moments ago either. What he did recognise was a threat when he heard one and the clear ring of truth in the man's words that suggested he at least believed he could carry it out. There was also a tension in the air that had the hairs on the back of his arms and neck rising to attention. Reminded once again that he was out of his depth Don did the only thing he could. He released his Glock and raised his hands as he took another step back.

"There," the witch ordered as he raised his other hand, finger extended and pointing towards Don's kitchen. "Move."

Backing away carefully with his eyes on the threatening hand Don moved. The witch followed for a few paces before stopping and watching until he was behind the bench.

"Stay put," the witch admonished. At Don's careful nod he slowly lowered his raised hand and went back to tend his patient.

Not sure exactly what had just happened, the agent leant back against the bench as his knees suddenly trembled. None of that had been possible, there couldn't have been an invisible wall in front of him and there was no way the man could hurt him with an empty raised hand. _Then why was he standing in his kitchen acting as if the witch had held a gun on him?_

Working to calm himself Don decided he didn't want to know the answer to his question. Instead he got his shaking hands to cooperate and drew himself a glass of water. The familiar everyday movements and drinking the water seemed to help and his shakes eased. He had enough real threats to deal with without imagining new ones. He also had a serial killer to catch with time fast running out while he waited here.

His impatience didn't quite outweigh his caution so he stayed in the kitchen as Dean convulsed for a few more minutes before lying quietly. The witch removed the poultices and used some of Don's paper towel to remove all traces of his treatment. It seemed totally incongruous when the witch dug into Dean's medical bag and dressed the wounded man's injuries with mundane dressings, strapping everything into place with dressing tape. He packed away his various jars and bags into his doctor's bag and looked as if he were getting ready to leave.

The witch bent, placing two fingers on Dean's forehead, whispering something Don couldn't catch. He did hear the Winchester's long sigh and saw the man's body relax, eyes closing. He looked closely and was relieved when he saw Dean's chest rise on his next breath. The witch then stepped away and walked towards the kitchen and Don. Don found himself backing away and forced himself to stop.

"He's going to sleep for a while," the man said sounding very much like a doctor, all threat gone from his voice. "When he wakes he'll need plenty of fluids. Try to keep him still for as long as you can. Good luck with that." He added with a wry grin as he turned away.

Don stayed put as the witch gathered up his bag and let himself out of the apartment. Free now to move Don went first to his door and peered out though the peep hole but the hall was empty. He locked the door, putting the chain back on before he felt safe enough to turn his back to it. Getting a grip on himself he reminded himself he was a federal agent with a job to do, even if said federal agent was currently breaking the law he was sworn to uphold. Focusing back on the real world enabled him to regather his composure and he went first to check on Dean's condition.

He found Dean was sleeping peacefully and his skin that had been clammy was now dry and had a healthier cast to it than it had before. Whatever the witch had done it seemed to have worked. Don stopped that line of thought before it could derail his regained composure. Checking the mundane dressings helped and he was satisfied Dean was going to survive his injuries. He saw the gun tucked back into Dean's belt under a protective hand and decided against trying to disarm the Winchester having little doubt it would wake him violently.

Remembering the witch's instructions Don put a bottle of water and a glass within reach on the coffee table along with a slip of paper with his current cell phone number on it. Although, after he gave it a moment's thought, he was sure Dean already had it.

After one last look at the sleeping fugitive he quietly slipped out of his apartment.

.


	4. Chapter 4

Numb3rs/Supernatural: Alliance

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs, Supernatural and associated characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

David listened with amazement as Don laid out more information on their suspect in a few minutes than all the rest of their investigation had netted them to date.

"Okay. Everyone got their assignments?" Don asked once he'd summed up. "Good. Let's go people, the clock is ticking."

David stood and waited as the rest of the agents filed out. Ordered back into the office in the middle of the night some of them were clearly still trying to wake up. They were tired, they all were having pulled longer and longer hours as the next serial killing loomed ever closer. Finally after some tempers had frayed Don had eased off, ordering most of them home to rest for the rest of the night, to return fresh in the morning. David and a couple of other agents had stayed to run the incident room desk overnight but now the entire squad assigned to this investigation had been called back in.

"Don? Can I have a word?" David asked as the others finished filing out.

Don closed his eyes for the briefest of moments but he should have expected this, David was too good not to realise something wasn't right. There was no option but to bluff it out so he calmly glanced up at his subordinate as he tidied up. "What's up, David?"

David closed the door and walked over. He stood waiting as Don shoved some papers back into a pile. Finally Don stopped and turned his full attention on him. Now David asked his question, "Where'd all this come from? A few hours ago we had nothing and then you come back with this."

Don saw the narrowed gaze directed as him as David waited for his reaction. He tried to keep all expression from his face as the guilt at what he was doing returned but he was ready now for the question and able to answer smoothly, "One of my informants came through."

"Which one? You said you'd spoken to everyone, we all have." Every agent on the case, even some not on the case had shaken down their confidential informants in an effort to dig up a lead. No one had come up with anything useful, aside from wild rumours that made no sense.

"I hadn't been able to find this one. He found me tonight." The best way to tell a lie was to tell as much of the truth as you could right along with it.

"Anyone I know?"

This was an outright lie, "No."

"How does he know so much? Sounds like he's in on it."

"He's not." Don felt a pang at that, _how did he know Dean and Sam weren't just playing some game on him?_

No, he decided, Dean wouldn't have left himself virtually helpless and vulnerable at the agent's mercy if things weren't as he said. Away from the older Winchester and any threat he could potentially muster against him there was nothing stopping Don from calling in a SWAT team to raid his apartment and take the fugitive into custody. Dean would have known this yet he'd allowed himself to sleep and thus leave himself open to whatever the agent might do. It seemed the witch had been right, Dean did trust him. Don in turn wasn't sure that he trusted Dean but he did need him. For now that would do.

"You got to admit it is a bit suspicious," David pushed. He'd seen something Don's expression that needed explaining. He couldn't call his boss directly on it but he could demand some answers. "No one else has come up with anything useful and yet this informant of yours suddenly has The Hunter's real name and background. We need to get him in here and sweat him for everything he knows."

"We do that and we'll get nothing more from him," Don said.

"So what, we have to accept that he finds you tonight and just gives us everything we need? Just like that?" David demanded.

"Yeah David, just like that," Don snapped as he rounded on his agent. He hated taking this out on David, his fear from earlier in the night and his precarious situation was fuelling his anger, but he had to shut this down and fast. "We need intel, he's got intel. We run it out. Any problems with that?"

"Hey, man. No problem," David said as he took a step back. His boss may also be his friend but the vibe that was rolling off him now told David he was on dangerous ground and needed to let this go.

Don was probably even more tired than everyone else working the case and clearly more than a bit cranky. David could understand it, to a point. As the agent in charge of the hunt for the serial killer Don was under more pressure than the rest of them. Without a profiler Don was pulling double duty trying to get into the head of the man they were after. Still, it was a touch odd that this mysterious C.I. would suddenly provide exactly what they needed. But then he had to remind himself that this was Don's C.I. and he would know whether or not the information was solid. His boss was also right on another point, they had to run it out.

David held up his notes as he backed up towards the door, "We're on it."

"Good," Don snapped and forced himself to hold his posture until David had left, closing the door behind him. Letting out a long sigh Don continued watching as David walked across the bull pen, knowing that he'd only backed him off temporarily.

The thought of calling in SWAT again crossed his mind. He'd obtained a lot of information from the fugitive, but was it enough to enable them to track and bring down Best? That was the problem, Dean and his brother had found and confronted the serial killer when the best efforts of the FBI's Los Angeles Field Office had failed even to identify who they were chasing. He needed Dean, needed the critical insight he could give him into the mind of the man they were after.

That gave him his next step, he had to go back to his apartment and wait for Dean to recover enough to give him what they needed. Even with all that Dean had given him there was still more that he could learn about their quarry. The better he understood the killer the sooner they would track him down.

He left the conference room, striding across the bull pen to his cubicle. For the first time he wished he'd taken the office he was entitled to rather than staying out on the floor with his agents. He felt David's eyes on him as he collected his keys and jacket and turned to face him.

"Where are you going?" David demanded before the senior agent could get a word in.

"To meet my informant," Don answered. "He was going to sniff around a bit more. I'm going to see if he has anything else."

David put down his folder and reached for his coat. "I'll come with."

"No!" It came out more forcefully than he intended and he saw David's head come up. "Look, he's skittish enough around me. If I turn up with another agent he'll go to ground."

Now David looked at him in concern. Sure, some informants were like that but David had the feeling again there was more to this than what Don was saying. Something was very much off about Don's behaviour but he still couldn't pin it down. There was something else he could try to get himself invited along, "You're sure he's not in on this? That it's safe enough for you to keep meeting him alone?"

Don knew as well as David that it wouldn't be the first time a so called informant was stringing along those he was supposedly helping, all the while biding his time to strike. He was sure it was far from safe to be in Dean's company but he had a job to do, whatever the risk to him.

"It's safe, David. He trusts me."

"Yeah, but do you trust him?"

That he still wasn't sure of and he had to figure it out soon or he'd be a wreck before too much longer. "I'll be fine."

David's expression indicated he knew his question hadn't been answered but again he had to let it go. "Will we be able to reach you?"

Don held up his cell before slipping it onto his belt. "Twenty-four-seven."

Despite himself David smiled briefly. Don was chained to his cell even if he had previous for turning it off on occasion. This would not be one of these occasions.

Don escaped while the going was good. Suffering an attack of paranoia as he left the building he turned away from home and headed across town. When he stopped checking for a tail and concentrated on where he was he found he had unconsciously headed towards South Central. He took the next turn and headed away; he may be an armed federal agent but some areas of South Central were not exactly safe in the wee small hours of the morning for a lone agent. Naturally the address where the Winchesters had found Best was one of those areas. Finally satisfied he had not been followed he drove home but couldn't help the last check for a tail before he pulled in under the building.

As he stepped through the door into his apartment he felt the cold press of something against his left temple. Freezing in place he slid his eyes left and saw Dean standing up against the wall beside the door, gun extended. The gun withdrew slightly and flicked bare millimetres but the instruction was clear enough. Don took a half step and was far enough inside his apartment that the door could be closed. The lock turned and Don carefully turned to face the other man.

Dean had his head cocked, trying to listen through the door. "You alone?"

"Of course I'm alone." Don snapped back, less than impressed at being threatened for walking through his own door.

Ignoring the flare of anger Dean lowered the gun and stepped back. "Didn't hear you go."

"I had work to do."

"You told them what I told you," Dean stated as he shoved the gun back into his waistband.

"Of course," Don said as he tried to regain his composure. His efforts to convince himself that he could trust the other man had not been helped any by being held at gunpoint once again. He moved deeper into his apartment after dropping the keys to his SUV into the bowl resting on the sideboard. "You wanted my help, this is my help. Besides, we want him as much as you do."

"I doubt that," Dean muttered as he made his painful way back to the couch.

"Should you be up?"

"What are you, my mother?"

"Hardly," Don scoffed. "But you're still badly hurt."

Dean had been about to sit back on the couch but he turned to face his host. "You need to get one thing straight; I'm good to do whatever it takes to get Sammy back. You got me?"

"You'll be no good to him dead," Don argued.

"Not dying now," Dean said as he finally settled on the couch. "Could be better though."

Don bit back the first response that came to mind at that. Instead he took his seat once again on the opposite couch. "So, what more can you tell me about Best?"

"What, haven't I given you enough already? You want maybe his favourite colour and star sign?"

"Sure. Whatever you can add would be good. The more of a profile we can build the quicker we should be able to locate him."

"Profile. Whatever." Dean said dismissively. He looked up as if he'd just thought of something, "What about that math-whiz brother of yours, the professor?"

For no real reason Don felt a surge of alarm at that but Charlie was safe at home resting at his insistence. Pushing away the memory of the last time his brother had met the Winchesters he kept his voice calm. "He's been working on it and he'll get the new data in the morning. Anything else you can give me to build a better profile will help us find Best quicker."

"Did you tell them where you got this?"

"An informant."

"Hunh, I guess there is a first time for everything. An informant. Never been one of those before."

.


	5. Chapter 5

Numb3rs/Supernatural: Alliance

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs, Supernatural and associated characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Don spent the rest of the night at his apartment, wringing as much information out of his fugitive guest as he could before Dean lost his temper and clammed up. By that point Don figured he had probably gained about as good a picture as he was going to get of their quarry. From what he could tell The Hunter had been displaying disturbing character traits for most of his adult life. If he were to completely cast aside his doubts over various parts of Dean's information he could only conclude that 'the life' as Dean called it could hardly have helped with Best's mental stability. The former hunter, now serial killer, had long since left the reservation.

With their work still cut out for them Don left early after only an hour of sleep, determined to put his new information to good use. By going in early he was able to prepare new tasking sheets guided by the profile he was refining. By the time the 8am briefing rolled around he was able to provide the various department heads and his bosses with a concise report outlining his profile of the killer and some alternative avenues of investigation. Don saw the frowns that were turned his way but ignored them in favour of getting his information across.

"Agent Eppes," Assistant Director-in-Charge Wright called from the back of the room when the briefing concluded. "A word."

The wait as the rest of the agents in the room made their way out took too long and at the same time didn't take long enough. Don knew that whilst his actions may not be sanctioned if the ADIC knew where he was getting his information, he was doing the right thing. The greater good and the lives of innocent LA citizens, potential victims of The Hunter, outweighed the capture of a fugitive who'd been on the run for so many years already.

"Sir?"

"Don't 'sir' me," Wright snapped. "Where did all this come from?"

"An informant," Don answered calmly.

"Which one?" Wright demanded. "None of this appears in the register."

This was a bit of a sticky point. All informants were required to be registered, along with a précis of information received and details of payments or consideration given in return, the system designed to prevent corruption. Don, like all the other agents at the bureau, was required to keep his listed informants and their status up to date. Wright knew that Don had been at work twice since meeting his supposed informant, plenty enough time that something should have been noted in the register.

"I haven't had a chance to update that, sir," Don started. "This is a new informant, I thought the time could be better spent-"

"New informant? From what Agent Sinclair said it would seem this was one of your current informants."

Don felt a brief surge of anger at the news that David had been speaking to Wright about this but he quickly quashed it. David was just doing his job, whether it had been his move to speak to the ADIC about his superior's sudden odd behaviour or the ADIC had come to him after overviewing the investigation notes. Thinking quickly he came up with an answer. "I used him back in Albuquerque. He moved here a couple of years ago and touched base with me but I never used him for anything."

"Why not? If he was good enough in Albuquerque, he would be good enough here surely?"

"He'd moved on from his previous life and wasn't associating in the same circles any more. I never put him on the books."

"So why now? You think that Best had some relationship with Albuquerque and this long lost informant could come up with something?"

In his report on the serial killer Don had not mentioned the New Mexico city as a previous location in which Best had worked. Wright was struggling to find a viable connection between the alleged informant and the information he'd provided. Don knew that because he was also struggling to come up with some sort of explanation that would suit. Once again he remembered the advice to tell the truth as much as possible to protect the lie.

"He came to me. I don't know how he got the information he did but it feels solid," Don said. "We don't have any other options at this stage but to run it out. From what he's told me another victim has already been taken and will be dead by tonight if we don't stop it."

"I agree we have to run it out. But I want your informant in here this morning for interrogation."

"But, sir, if I bring him in we'll lose him, and anything else he might give us," Don objected.

"I'm giving you an official direction Agent Eppes." Wright's voice left no doubt that he was far from happy with Don's explanation. "That informant, in here, this morning."

"He's not going to be easy to find, I should be -"

"I believe I have made myself clear, Eppes," Wright interrupted.

Don snapped his mouth closed and took a deep breath. "Yes, sir."

"And where is that consultant brother of yours? With what we're paying him I expect to see him around the office at some point."

Don felt a jolt, he'd been that focused on preparing his profile and setting tasks that he'd not realised Charlie hadn't arrived at the office as yet. His brother had no classes until the afternoon and had promised him over the phone late yesterday that he'd be here bright and early. "Sometimes he works best from home, sir. I'll track him down."

"You do that." Wright pulled open the door before turning back. "Call me when you bring in your informant."

"Sir." Don had no option but to acknowledge the order even if there was no way he could bring Dean into the office. Even if he got around the fact that Dean would resist any such effort, bringing this particular man in would completely derail their investigation. All the information provided by the wanted fugitive Dean Winchester would be immediately suspect and discounted. Dean himself would be put into the frame for the serial murders as fitting his official profile and documented history. The additional fact that Don would come under scrutiny, for harbouring a fugitive at the very least, was no small thing either.

Don found himself sitting heavily as he tried to figure a way out of the mess he'd walked into with both eyes open. As he saw it he had no option but to leave the office as if to search for his informant and not come back, not until they got a solid break. He'd already laid the groundwork that his informant would not be easy to find. Not an ideal situation but nothing about this was ideal.

Gathering up his paperwork he headed back to his cubicle. Across the bullpen he could see Wright speaking with David and he couldn't help the glare he cast in his subordinate's direction. He snapped himself out of it, it wasn't David's fault, and he'd brought everything upon himself by his own unforced actions. There was nothing left now but to play it out. Once again he snagged his keys and coat and after a final look around the office as if he might never see it again he turned and headed out.

By the time he arrived at the Craftsman house he felt calmer, his course set. Nothing had really changed; he would do what it took to get The Hunter off the streets.

There was no one home. He had gone first to the garage expecting to find Charlie scribbling away furiously at one of his chalkboards but it was empty. Glancing over the figures on the board he saw some odd notations amongst those he was more familiar with. Shrugging that off as he needed his brother to explain what most of it meant anyway, he let himself into the house and found his brother's bed hadn't been slept in despite his orders. With a sigh he acknowledged, not for the first time, that his brother was like him in many ways, just as driven to solve a puzzle as he was. Checking the rest of the house he found it empty, just as expected after earlier noting their father's car gone from the garage.

Chafing at the delay Don headed off to CalSci but the result was the same, the professor had not been in today but late yesterday afternoon had phoned through the cancelation of his posted office hours for the day. Don simply nodded at the receptionist when he started to wonder if he should be alarmed. The cancellation was expected following the professor's promise to be in the FBI office this morning. Trying Charlie's cell only led him to his brother's messagebank. Refusing to allow himself to be concerned at his failure to locate his brother he left a message and headed home, he had an 'informant' to protect and a serial killer to catch.

Remembering what had happened the last time he'd walked through his door he hesitated, jingling his keys more than normal to alert Dean that this wasn't a raid. He pushed the door open slowly then slipped through the narrow gap and closed it quickly behind him. He saw the dark shape off to the side and knew before he turned that Dean was waiting, gun ready.

"I'm alone," Don said before Dean could speak. Given that the reaction was expected Don barely felt any alarm.

"I'm not," Dean answered.

Don turned away and his mouth went dry as he saw his younger brother staring at him, perched stiffly on the edge of the couch. Suddenly the threat of the gun aimed at him became all too real and his hands came up.

"Charlie? What are you doing here?" Don demanded.

Charlie's mouth opened once, closed, and opened again before he could answer the question. Seeing his older brother held at gunpoint made it difficult to concentrate on anything else. "I found a pattern."

"You-" Don started then stopped. Whatever it was could wait. He carefully turned and looked at the Winchester. "Let him go."

"Maybe."

Not liking the sound of that he was about to speak when he thought of something else. Switching his attention back away from Dean he spoke to Charlie instead. He had to know how his brother had come to be here, and how he'd been treated by Dean; it would make a world of difference to what he would do next. "What happened?"

"I let myself in and he was here."

"He pulled a gun on you?"

"No. But he wouldn't let me answer my cell." He waved his hand at his phone sitting on the coffee table.

Don frowned at that but moved on, "He held you?"

Charlie looked a little sheepish. "I, I hadn't tried to leave yet.

Don rounded on Dean, anger now replacing his earlier caution. "You would have stopped him leaving?"

Dean faced the angry agent. "Yeah, I think I would."

"We had a deal, let him go or it's off."

"You, I have history with," Dean argued, "him, I don't know. I can't help Sammy if I'm locked up."

"You want me to help you, you let him go."

"Don, I -" Charlie started.

"Not now," Don interrupted. This time he didn't break eye contact with Dean. "He won't call anyone. Let him go."

"I'm not so sure that he wants to go," Dean stated. He stepped back after a moment, his infuriatingly cocky grin touching his face as he tucked his Colt back into his belt. "But if he does and he calls your fed buddies, I still got you. We're sticking together from now on."

Despite the words Don noted that the cocky grin had already faded and Dean's body language and tone carried not so much any threat against the agent as confidence in his decision and that the agent would do as he said. Whether or not there was any threat against him didn't really matter, he wanted Charlie out of there and he wanted him to keep what he'd witnessed to himself. For now.

"Charlie," Don called, jerking his head sideways.

"What's going on here?" Charlie demanded as he and Don moved towards the kitchen to gain some bare amount of privacy. "After last time I thought-"

"It doesn't matter," Don interrupted. His brother didn't know about the brief visit the Winchesters had paid him on the following full moon after the encounter in the graveyard on Halloween. "Why are you here?"

"I told you, I found a pattern."

"Why didn't you call?"

"I haven't seen you alone in days so I figured I'd swing by on the way to the office. When I saw the lights on, I came in." Charlie glanced back at the man sitting on the couch. He knew who the man was, what the files said he and his brother were capable of. He also knew what he'd seen himself and the fact that they'd not hurt his older brother despite several opportunities to do so. It was clear to him there were things Don hadn't spoken of but if the crazy tales he had told were to be believed the fugitive Winchesters had saved his life. "I found him here."

"Yeah, buddy." Don sighed, running his hand down his face. This was all going to hell. "He said he could help with the case. His brother Sam is the next victim."

After another glance at Dean Charlie turned back to his brother. "That's actually why I wanted to find you here rather than at the office." Charlie hesitated then continued. "I was going to suggest you try to call them. I know they took your cell and I remember the files saying they normally kept phones. I thought they might be able to help with the pattern I've found."

"So what is this pattern?"

"Comparing the timings of the killings, the manner of their deaths and the types of victims selected I believe I have found a progression." Another look around behind him and Charlie saw Dean stand and focus his attention on the brothers. He sensed rather than saw Don tense as his older brother shifted slightly. "It's coming to a head, I think this victim, Sam, will be the last."

"What will happen?" Dean demanded sharply.

"I, I don't know. I still don't understand the occult references found at the crime scenes and I thought you might be able to..."

"I don't know. Sammy, he's better at the detail stuff. We were able to figure it's a very powerful summoning spell but I don't know how complete it is or what he's trying to bring through." Dean explained. "What we do know is the spell breaks a number of seals which means something really bad could break loose if Best gets it done."

Charlie shared a glance with Don, clearly not understanding exactly what the Winchester was on about. Don had already heard some of this before but it didn't mean he understood it any better. What was clear however was the complete belief in Dean's voice.

"So, you said you got research," Dean continued. "Let's look at this research."

.


	6. Chapter 6

Numb3rs/Supernatural: Alliance

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs, Supernatural and associated characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX**

An hour later, despite his assertion that his brother knew more about this type of research than he did, Dean was agreeing with Charlie's assessment that there would be no more victims. When Best finished sacrificing Sam the spell would be complete. They still had no clue as to what Best was summoning but Dean insisted it was something very dangerous given how securely it had been imprisoned behind layers of seals.

"We have to stop him," Dean finally stated, shoving the laptop away.

"Working on it," Don acknowledged.

"You do that. I'm calling Bobby to see what he's got on the lore." Dean stated.

Don let Dean walk off, cell phone already to his ear as he called this 'Bobby'. He glanced at his watch, "Charlie, you need to head in."

The younger Eppes looked up from where he'd started typing on his laptop. He glanced warily at Dean before speaking. It was one thing to suggest his older brother contact the Winchesters but it was something else to have one hanging out at Don's apartment. "What about you?"

"I'm staying here," Don answered. He didn't bother looking over at the real subject of their conversation. "Wright ordered me to bring in my informant which I can't for obvious reasons. I have to stay away from the office for now. If anyone asks, I'm out looking for my CI."

"Uh, yeah, I guess. What about my data, should I give them what I've got?"

"Absolutely. Call in that professor that helped with the occult stuff last time, see if she can help out again."

"Numerology," Charlie corrected. "I've already called Professor Trowbridge, she couldn't help us herself but she did give me some names."

"Call them, see if they can give any general advice," Don suggested. If they weren't cleared they couldn't get all the case details but they may be able to point the FBI in the right direction. Whilst they had the best thing to an expert in Dean with his involvement being kept secret they had to attempt to source other experts on the subject or questions would be asked.

"What about him?" Charlie had to ask. He wasn't so sure it was the best way to handle the situation but he had to allow that Don usually landed on his feet.

"'Him' is staying with your brother 'til this is over," Dean said, interrupting his call from the other side of the room. Again there was no threat in his tone but both brothers were more than aware of the potential meaning to Dean's words.

"I'm staying here," Don said firmly. "I'm still building a profile and Dean has the answers I need. I'll call in if I have anything more to add, but remember as far as the FBI is concerned I'm searching for my CI, got it?"

"I remember," Charlie said as he shut down his laptop. The repeated order was a sure sign of the stress Don was under. He packed the laptop away and headed for the door, Don following. Again he hesitated. "You're sure?"

"Sure, buddy," Don answered. "I'll be fine."

Charlie lowered his voice to almost a whisper as Dean had already demonstrated sharp hearing. "If it goes wrong I'll tell them."

Don could live with that. "It won't. But yes, if it does."

After his brother had left Don felt much more at ease, well as much as it was possible to be with a fugitive sitting on his couch anyway. He set the coffee machine and started firing more questions at his guest.

It wasn't long before Dean had once again had enough. "What more do you want? He likes porno mags. He likes his tequila straight up and gets a hard-on for butterscotch ice-cream of all things. That's it, you got it all. Now can we find him?"

Don ignored Dean's frustrated anger. "How did you find him before? You said you tracked him to that house, can you do it again?"

Dean grimaced. "We followed him here due to the killings and narrowed it down to the area but then we bumped into a friend of a friend who had seen him."

"So call this friend of a friend," Don suggested.

"Tried. He's gone. I've called everyone I know in town and got nothing."

"So you found me," Don concluded.

"I needed to keep things moving while I got patched up. Think I'm about good to go now," Dean finished.

Casting a critical eye over the injured man Don wasn't so sure. Dean was far healthier than he'd been the night before, an improvement beyond anything Don could have expected, but that didn't mean he was up to hitting the streets in search of his brother. "Let my people work on this a bit more to narrow down the search area if nothing else."

"Not much time left, the sacrifice has to happen tonight," Dean reminded him.

"I know," Don replied. At the reminder of passing time another glance at his watch told him it was past the point where he should have called in to see how things were developing.

"_Sinclair,"_ David answered on the fourth ring.

"Update," Don demanded.

Over the sounds of shuffling paper as he thumbed through the returned taskings David provided his report before providing a summary. _"As best we can tell South Central LA still seems to be the most likely place Best is holed up. We've had a few unconfirmed sightings down that way and we're working on confirming those now by pulling CCTV footage."_

Supposedly searching for his informant Don couldn't actively provide any of the new information he'd gained from Dean this morning but it had led him to an idea that he could use. "I want you to get LAPD to send over all their occurrence sheets. We might catch a break by keeping an eye out for any odd incidents."

"_I've already asked for the sheets and I've got someone on them,"_ David answered.

Don wasn't too surprised, David was a good operator. "Have them sent to my laptop would you? I may as well get some work done while I try to track my CI."

"_No luck?"_

"I think he's gone to ground til this is over," Don said. "I've got some calls out so I've got time to look over the LAPD sheets until I hear back."

"_Don, I-"_ David started.

By the other agent's tone Don had a fair idea where he was going and interrupted him. "Nah, David. It's cool. Let's just get this done, we're running out of time."

"_Oh, Charlie's shown up,"_ David announced after a brief pause. _"He said he'd spoken to you."_

"He gave me a run down on his results. Anything new?"

"_Not yet. I'll get those sheet to you,"_ David said before hanging up.

"Well?" Dean demanded.

"We think he's in South Central," Don started.

"I already know that!"

"We've had some sightings, David is working on getting them confirmed which will give us a much better area to concentrate on."

"Should have found him by now," Dean complained.

"How long did it take you before your friend of a friend told you where he was?" Don challenged. Dean had earlier admitted they'd been in town for almost a week before yesterday's confrontation.

"There's just two of us, you're the FBI."

Don didn't point out that it had barely been twelve hours since he got the extra intel from Dean. With the resources they were throwing at the case things were moving relatively quickly but investigations still tended to move at their own pace no matter how hard you tried, especially when relying on information from witnesses. At least they had a smaller area in which to concentrate now rather than the whole LA basin. Don also didn't point out that it had previously only been more good luck rather than investigative skill that had led to the Winchesters being taken into custody in the past. Best was from the same background and was proving to be just as difficult to find.

"Give us a chance, the more eyes we have on this the better." Don finally said. "What are you doing?"

Dean had climbed to his feet and was gathering his stuff. "We're heading out. Like you said, the more eyes the better and I know him on sight."

"You're not ready yet," Don insisted, closing in. He put his hand on Dean's shoulder eliciting a wince. "You need more rest, you nearly died last night."

"That was last night," Dean grunted but sat back down.

Don dug out his laptop and powered it up. Opening his email he found several new messages waiting with LAPD occurrence sheets as attachments. David had been thorough with the listed documents including the supervisors' sheets as well as the individual crew logs. "Here, help me go through these."

As time wore on Dean was getting more and more restless requiring all of Don's negotiating skills to keep the wounded man from rushing out to attempt his own search. They ate a scratch up lunch from what he could find in the fridge and kept at it with updated occurrence sheets arriving on his email and Don calling in for updates. Some of the sightings had been verified with CCTV footage and the net was closing in. There was still plenty of ground to cover but it was looking promising.

"That's it," Dean announced. "I'm done with this. Let's go."

By the time the words filtered through Don was on his second read of a report. An LAPD crew had attended a disturbance at a small market in South Central. Nothing unusual in that, disturbances, robberies, whatever were common and this sounded relatively run of the mill - a man going berserk, shoving things off shelves and pulling over displays. After a string of particularly violent threats the man had stormed off. The detailed report stated that the attendant had seen the man drive off in a black ford and had ducked his head outside to see the car turn into the vicinity of some abandoned businesses. The crew had been about to investigate that area when they were called away to a more serious matter.

What drew Don's eye was the cause of the disturbance. Seems the man had been visiting the store daily for the past week, each time buying butterscotch ice-cream along with other groceries. Today, the store ran out of the ice-cream and the man flew into a rage.

Don checked the physical description, white, tall, muscular, red hair with a goatee beard. That along with the detail of the black car almost matched Best. The biggest area of doubt was the lack of mention of tattoos on the man's arms. Even without that key point it was what seemed to be the freshest possible sighting of Best and a possible location where he could be holed up.

"Dean, wait," Don said urgently. He was about to explain what he'd found when he stopped, surprised at what he saw.

He had earlier noted Dean fidgeting and that he'd left the room for a few minutes but hadn't really paid too much attention to what he was doing as long as it wasn't trying to leave. Now he saw that Dean was dressed neatly in a suit, a suit that Don recognised from the last time Dean had played FBI agent.

"What are you wearing?"

"What does it look like? I'm blending in. You got a problem with that?"

Yes, Don had a problem with that but he could see the point. He knew it had about reached the time when Dean's insistence on going into the field would be too difficult to prevent. Given the numbers of FBI agents in South Central Dean would certainly draw less attention dressed as one, particularly as Don was going to be with him. He let it go in favour of turning his laptop around so Dean could see the screen. "Read this."

Dean dropped his bag and pulled the laptop to him. He read the report that Don had highlighted, his expression tightening into an angry mask.

"Where is it?"

"I know the area," Don answered. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep Dean contained any longer. "We'll check it out, it might not be him."

"Do you see me standing around arguing?" Dean snapped. "Let's go."

"I'll give David a call. Hey!" Don started as his cell was snagged from his hand.

"Like you said, it might not be him. We'll check it out then call it in," Dean insisted.

About to argue a thought struck him, he really didn't want to be seen in Dean Winchester's company and calling in backup when they were going to be at the same location didn't seem to be such a smart idea. They could check it out first, just the two of them. If they found Best then he would call it in after getting Dean stashed somewhere away from prying eyes. He wasn't going to make the mistake of taking on another hunter with just the wounded Dean for backup, even if he seemed to be making a miraculous recovery.

Getting into the elevator Don automatically pressed the button for the basement then remembered that Dean would need to get off and went to press the one for the ground floor but Dean stopped him.

"I'll ride with you," Dean explained.

It was far enough out of character that Don blinked at that. The connection between the older Winchester and his black impala was almost a legend, even in the rather clinical FBI files.

"More believable if we're both in the same car and yours says 'fed' better than mine does," Dean added.

.


	7. Chapter 7

Numb3rs/Supernatural: Alliance

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs, Supernatural and associated characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Driving out of the basement parking lot Don couldn't help but look over at the guest parking space to see no Impala. He reminded himself that he shouldn't be that surprised as clearly Dean had been to his car at some point to get the suit he was currently wearing.

"She's somewhere safe," Dean commented when he saw where the agent was looking.

"I don't doubt it," Don answered.

"When I get Sam back, we're not hanging around."

That sounded like an excellent plan to Don, the sooner Dean was out of his hair and LA the better. The silence as they drove was broken Dean's cell ringing and his mostly one sided conversation with Bobby.

"Anything?" Don asked when Dean hung up.

"He's still trying to figure exactly what Best is trying to summon," Dean explained. "Until we know that we won't know how to gank it."

_Gank?_ The term was a new one on him but Don figured the meaning easily enough. He wouldn't be letting Dean kill anyone, or anything for that matter, if he could help it but they'd reached the block where the market was so he let it go for now. Doing a lap around the entire block he was relieved to see no other FBI vehicles in sight.

The store was like any number of small markets in the area with tightly packed shelves loaded up with cheap foodstuffs, fridges and freezers down the back and junk food, candy and cigarettes up the front closest the door. At the end of the counter was a glass area where tubs of ice-cream waited to be scooped into cones. Expecting to see signs of the disturbance Don was surprised to find it had mostly been tidied up. A clearly broken rotating stand was leaning against the end of the counter and the laminated glass over the ice-cream was cracked but that seemed to be it on first blush. As the attendant approached from the rear of the store Don had another look and saw some goods jumbled up on the shelves and a piece of broken glass against the edge of the wall.

The attendant, an elderly man who was probably actually younger than he looked, moved behind his counter and looked them over. Don saw the man's attitude change when he realised they weren't buying.

"So what are you meant to be?"

Flashing his ID Don tried not to react when he saw Dean do the same. "FBI. We're here about the disturbance you reported. In particular we're interested in the man who caused it."

"Is there a reward?" The attendant asked shrewdly. It wouldn't do to give information away for free if he could make a few bucks out of it.

"No, there's no reward," Dean jumped in, clearly angry at the mercenary question. "You-"

Don interrupted before Dean said something that would put the attendant further off-side. "We believe the man may be able to help us with our investigation into some recent murders. Anything you could give us might prevent another murder."

"What do I care about some random murders?" The man snapped. "Stuff like that happens all the time around here and nothing gets done about it. What I care about is stopping young punks trashing my place."

"Then give us what you got Pops, and I promise you he won't trash your place again," Dean said.

The man appeared unimpressed by the promise but started speaking. The story was much the same as the occurrence sheet, just a little more fleshed out. He went back over his description of the man but aside from adding black jeans and a red plaid shirt to the mix there wasn't anything more.

"What about tattoos?" Don demanded.

"What about it? He could have had some, or not. I don't know, I wasn't exactly looking for tatts," the attendant responded.

"You have CCTV?" Looking around Don couldn't see any cameras. Normally that would have been a bad thing but today he was finding himself feeling immensely relieved, even if it made it harder to prove the man who caused the disturbance was Best.

"What, I look like I can afford that?" The man said testily. "Now, if there's no reward and you've got what you wanted you can get the hell out. You're scaring off my customers."

A couple of people had come to the door whilst they'd been talking and had just as quickly discovered they had business elsewhere.

Don started to reach for his wallet to pull out his card when he thought better of it. "If you think of anything-"

"I'll be sure to call the tip line," the old man finished in a tone that suggested he would do no such thing. He'd told the cops and now the FBI what had happened, doing more than his part, they could handle the rest. It was their job, not his.

"Yeah, you do that you-" Dean started.

Don hustled his 'partner' out of the shop before he created too much of a memorable impression. The last thing he needed was an official complaint regarding the attitude of a non-existent agent, implicating him in the bargain.

Although it was only a few blocks to the vicinity of the abandoned businesses Don drove most of the way so the equipment in the back of the SUV wouldn't be far away if needed. He'd barely put the vehicle into park before Dean slid out and started towards the buildings. After ensuring the SUV was securely locked Don hurried to catch up.

Crouching beside Dean against a fence Don assessed the area around them. It looked like there used to be a car dealership, a garage and a gas station all side by side on the block. All had been long abandoned and were now covered with graffiti and as far as he could tell not a single pane of glass remained. Weeds and grass grew through cracks in the pavement and a couple of stripped car bodies were slowly dissolving away into rust. Behind the frontages there looked to be some sheds or storage areas that would have supplied the businesses. If Best was in there he'd picked a good area to hole up.

Once again Don had to scramble to keep up as Dean was already on the move over to the first building at a crouching run. Making their way around the first few buildings Don had to admire the professional way Dean moved, silently and carefully peering into windows and around cracks in doorways. It was clear he'd had plenty of experience and Don found himself moving with Dean in much the same way he would with any other agent. Working quickly but carefully they made their way along the row of buildings, clearing the store fronts before starting on the rear buildings.

Dean saw it first, a scuff mark on the dirty concrete. Following the line Dean pointed out Don could see how the scuff was one of a series that travelled in a faint arc across the concrete, the track of a car tyre. The scuffs were clear, not spotted like the rest of the surrounding area from the short shower of rain they'd had overnight. They exchanged a glance and as one drew their guns before carefully easing closer to the building. A door large enough to admit two cars formed almost the entire frontage of the building identifying it as a garage or a workshop area.

Flattening themselves against the building they both turned their heads and pressed their ears to the wall, listening intently for movement. There was nothing. After another shared glance they moved in opposite directions being extra cautious not to make any noise or show themselves to anyone that may be inside. Limited to trying to peer into the darkness through cracks rather than using the few broken windows their circuit around the building took some time. Eventually they met up again at the rear with each giving a slight shake of the head to indicate they'd found nothing.

Dean held up his hand, _wait_, and cautiously moved to peer into the open window frame in the wall beside the rear door. Don saw Dean's hands flex on his gun in reaction to something he'd seen and started moving just as Dean pulled the edge of the door open enough to slip inside. Don crouched and hesitated a moment, waiting to see if there was any reaction to Dean's actions before he revealed himself. Nothing. Finally Don also squeezed through the gap in a crouch, moving quickly to the side and into a deep shadow whilst his eyes adjusted.

A black shape resolved itself into an old black ford, the same model Dean stated Best drove. Don looked around the rest of the garage and found it was basically that, room enough for two cars with industrial shelving around the walls and mechanic's pit visible in the empty car space. There were no signs of Best or anyone else. Don rose from his position and conducted a sweep of the garage as Dean concentrated on the car. A dull clunk had Don focusing his attention back on the car as Dean had pulled the trunk release. This time it was Don that held up a hand to stop Dean, he would check the trunk. Surprisingly Dean nodded and waited.

Keeping his gun back but at the ready Don cast one last glance at Dean before quickly pulling the trunk lid up and darting to the corner of the car where he would be out of the line of fire from anyone lying in wait. When nothing happened he leant in and saw that the trunk appeared to be empty, no offender and on a more positive note, no victim. Digging into a pocket he pulled out a small flashlight and shone the beam into the trunk as Dean moved up alongside him. It was empty but there were some sizeable blood stains that whilst mostly dark and dried were still slightly tacky in places to Don's probing finger. He may not have been a forensic technician but he had seen enough blood in his time to know that even though the stains were not fresh they couldn't be more than a day old.

"You don't know its Sam's," Don said at the expression on Dean's face.

"He was bleeding when I last saw him," Dean said keeping his voice low.

Don critically examined the size of the stains and ran his hand over the liner to get a feel for its absorbency. "Not enough blood to be fatal." As he looked at Dean he saw that his attempt at reassurance didn't seem to be all that successful.

Dean snapped himself out of it, stepping away from the trunk and its disturbing stains. "He's alive. He's here and I'm going to find him."

Don followed him out of the garage and waited as Dean appeared to be considering, looking to each of the nearby buildings. Despite his profiling he had to allow that as a fellow hunter Dean would know more about Best's habits than he would and that would include which of the buildings around them he would prefer. Eventually Dean came to a decision and jerked his head at a building adjacent to them.

Don couldn't see anything that differentiated that building from the others around them, all were in the same state of disrepair and vandalism but he simply nodded and followed Dean across the space between them. The building was larger than the garage and took longer to make their way around especially as this time Don stayed with Dean, concerned that if he found something he wouldn't hesitate but to go charging inside. They had reached the far corner before something caused Don to stop. Closing his eyes he concentrated and heard it again, a voice.

"Ssst," Don hissed to draw Dean's attention.

Dean held up a hand and moved his fingers in a gesture the agent recognised as _talking_. Dean had heard it too. They both crouched and again leant their ears against the wall. The sound was slightly louder but still too muffled to make anything out but it was enough to confirm it was a voice.

Then came the sound of a second voice, a different tone that answered the first and Dean stiffened.

"Sam?"

"He's in there," Dean said tightly.

That was the final confirmation Don needed. They'd found Best and his victim. "I'm calling this in. Give me my cell," Don demanded.

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled the device out but held it in his fist. "I need some time."

"To do what?" Don countered even as he knew the answer. He kept his voice low as he tried to drive his message home. "I don't care what that witch did, you're in no condition to go in there. You need to play this smart and let us do this."

"I'm good to do whatever it takes, Fed," Dean stated. He started to move off.

Don grabbed for Dean's shoulder but immediately froze as the Colt snapped up. "Don't be stupid. Give me my cell so I can call this in, we need more help here if we're going to get Sam out safely."

"You're giving me time," Dean said as he tossed the phone to one side.

Don tracked its path and grimaced as it landed in an old oil drum with an accompanying wet 'plop' that indicated it had landed in something. Oil or water it didn't matter, the phone was toast.

"You'll get your brother killed-" Don broke off as the Colt jabbed in his direction.

"I'm getting him out. You're either helping me or not. But you're not stopping me," Dean said in a dangerous tone.

"Fine, not stopping you," Don agreed as he backed away slightly. Dean was more than a little protective of his younger brother, something Don could relate to, but at least one of them had to be thinking straight. "But we can't go in, not yet. You have to let me call this in first."

Don had learned that lesson the hard way and couldn't help rubbing at the back of his neck as he remembered the feel of the needle entering his flesh. He couldn't let Dean go it alone but he couldn't do anything until backup was rolling. With his cell gone he would have to run back to the SUV to use the radio but there was nothing for it.

"Then call it in. I'm getting Sam."

.


	8. Chapter 8

Numb3rs/Supernatural: Alliance

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs, Supernatural and associated characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

There was no point in arguing any further, the longer he did the more likely they were to be discovered or for Best to start torturing Sam if he hadn't already. He watched for a second as Dean moved off before making his way back to his SUV as quickly as he could. After calling in to Control he was patched through to David.

"_Don, I've been trying to call you,"_ David started.

Dean must have either switched his cell to silent, or more likely off altogether, Don decided. "My cell's died. Listen, I think I've got a lead down here in South Central. An abandoned car repair business on South Normandie."

"_You followed up on the disturbance at Jim's Quik Mart?" _David asked._ "I was calling you about that."_

"The description matches, as does the car the offender was driving. I've checked the area the car was last seen and there is a similar car parked at an abandoned garage between 61st and 62nd streets. Get a raid team down here, ASAP."

There was a longish pause that had Don wondering before David came back. _"The ADIC wants to know about your informant."_

There was no time for this but Don kept that out of his voice, "No go on that. David, we have to get this moving."

"_Colby's on it."_ David responded. _"Where are you?"_

"Just down the road, but I'm going to go back to keep an eye on things in case Best tries to get back to the car."

"_Monitor only,"_ David ordered, falling into supervisor mode. _"SWAT is on the way."_

"Going tactical," Don advised, letting David know he'd be on his portable radio. "3695 out."

Moving quickly Don went to the back of his SUV and geared up, something he'd had enough practice at that he was done in a few minutes. Settling the radio earbud into his ear he relocked the SUV and headed off at a run, hoping it was not too late.

When he reached the set of abandoned buildings he forced himself to slow and move cautiously. If things had gone south for Dean he needed to keep his wits about him if he were to have any chance at intervening. Once he was back at the side of the building where they'd heard the voices he stopped and pulled his earbud out to lean his ear against the building once again. There were no voices this time but there were faint sounds that suggested there was a disturbance going on deep inside the building.

Telling himself that going into another abandoned building to attempt the rescue of a victim, much as he'd done the first time he encountered the Winchesters, was not a mistake didn't really help but he kept moving. Backup was rolling, he just had to go in, assess the situation, maybe get Sam out while Dean had Best engaged and then see what he could do. Again he felt the ghostly pain of the needle in his neck reminding him of the need for caution. He slowed, clearing the area around him as he moved deeper inside the building. The larger floor area meant there were some dividing walls for old office space and there was no rushing this, part of Dean's information about Best included his skill at setting mantraps. In the relatively dark building spotting such traps was not going to be easy giving him another reason to be cautious.

Even so he steadily made his way deeper into the building, around a some basic trip wire traps until he was standing over the sounds of what was clearly a fight. It was coming from beneath the wooden floor and Don cast around until he found the set of stairs heading underground to what was probably once a storage area. There was a flickering yellow glow that suggested the area was lit by candles or something other than mains power. He found himself hesitating as the thought that he really should retrace his steps so he could lead the SWAT team in around the traps crossed his mind. It was the most tactically sensible thing to do but then he heard a taunting voice and he had no choice.

"You should be dead, Dean," the male voice taunted. "But I'm glad you found me, makes this all the sweeter. Two dead Winchesters. Rahab will be pleased."

Dean's painful answer cemented Don's course. "Not ... dead yet."

"Soon enough. But I can't play too long; I have to finish the spell."

"Then let's get it on."

"No," a rough voice suddenly called. "Get out, Dean. Please."

By this time Don was on the first stair tread, making his way down into the dimly lit area. By the time he'd reached the floor he'd realised that the room was bigger than he'd expected. Racks of ceiling high industrial shelving that still carried boxes blocked his view of the struggle taking place over to his right.

Don quickly moved to the shelves and peered through the gap between a couple of boxes. With the narrow field of vision he could only see a small section of the corner of the basement area. It was enough to show him the younger Winchester brother hanging bloodied and battered but conscious in chains from one of the support beams near the back wall. He couldn't see Dean or Best. The shelves shook suddenly and he figured the two men had crashed into them and spun off. The sounds of Dean's pain filled grunts spurred him on, there was no time to waste.

Taking a few short steps he was at the end of the set of shelves. He firmed his grip on his Glock and rolled out, gun extended as he sought a target only to find himself sent flying as the struggling pair suddenly crashed against him. The gun went one way and he went the other, his head ringing like a bell after hitting the rough concrete. Blinking and shaking his head he scrambled to his feet only to be sent flying again as a body struck him. Rolling he shoved the man off to see that it was Dean.

As Dean groaned, fresh patches of blood visible on his dress shirt, Don regained his feet and faced their opponent. He'd known Best was tall and muscular from Dean's description but his first full view of the man had him swallowing at the man's impressive physique, putting even Sam to shame. Don reached immediately for the backup weapon holstered against his chest.

"None of that," Best said firmly as if scolding a child. Moving extraordinarily fast for a man his size he pulled a large handgun from the back of his jeans and fired.

Don tried to dive away but felt the punches to his chest and knew the bullets had struck home. He took a breath as he rolled on the dusty concrete and recognised the pain, the vest had caught the bullets leaving him bruised but otherwise uninjured. Making it back to his feet he pulled the backup gun free but as he starting to bring it up he knew it was pointless. Best's aim had been true, the weapon was damaged and unusable after one of the man's rounds had struck the Glock on the breech. There was only one thing it was good for now and winding up he let the useless gun fly in a straight pitch at the man's head. Best once again demonstrated quick reflexes and ducked safely.

"Hanging out with feds," Best said reproachfully. He kept his eyes on the agent as he started circling but his words were aimed at Dean. "I'd thought better of you, Dean. Besides, I thought you didn't like playing with others."

"Whatever it takes," Dean retorted.

Don glanced over to see Dean back on his feet and circling the other way, increasing the distance between himself and the agent. Best would have to pick his target when he made his move, leaving the other free to counterattack. Given Dean's condition Don let him do the talking, if the other man could draw Best's attack Don was in a better position to take advantage of it.

"And look where it's got me," Best said, seemingly unconcerned at the manoeuvring and shifting his attention to Dean. "Two Winchesters and a fed. Happy days."

"Enjoy it while you can. You bring this big bad through and he'll make a meal out of you."

"Oh, no Dean. We've got a cast iron deal but you're not going to be around to see what happens."

"You can't trust demon."

"Rahab isn't a demon, he's one of the fallen," Best crowed.

That seemed to set Dean back a bit if the pause was anything to go by. "Well that explains the seals. A damned angel, as if we didn't have enough going on."

"Nothing you are going to have to worry about," Best taunted. "Or Sam. But it's gonna cost him the most."

Dean responded to the threat against his brother with a charge. As the two men grappled Don found a number of car parts on a section of shelf and selected the closest thing to a weapon, a cam shaft. It was far heavier than the extendable batons he'd trained with but the weight also had an advantage. Closing in he saw his chance and swung the heavy car part at Best's upper back. Best grunted and started to turn but Don was able to recover and swing again. The serial killer went down heavily and lay still.

Dean was partially caught underneath the larger man so Don worked to pull him free before dealing with Best. That was a mistake, he felt hands grab him moments after getting Dean clear and he was flung bodily aside. Landing heavily Don had the wind knocked from him and it took a few painful breaths to get some air back into his lungs. Still gasping he got himself up and saw Best was once again concentrating on Dean. Spying the cam shaft nearby Don got his hands on it and closed in on the fight telling himself that Best couldn't sustain many more blows before he stayed down. This time as he raised the shaft the struggling men turned and Best saw what was waiting for him.

Lashing out with his incredible speed Best swung a vicious backhand at Don's head as he tried to fend the blow off with the cam shaft. The blow connected and Don came back to himself as he rolled across the concrete. Unable to move for a moment he tried to pull himself together but the kick to his side left him once again winded and gasping for breath.

"Looks like I need to sort you out first," Best commented. "Dean's not up for much but for a fed you're not doing too badly."

Don tried to ignore the other man's words as he worked to get the air back into his lungs for the second time in almost as many minutes.

"Ungh!" Best suddenly grunted and turned to fend Dean off. "Alright, I think I've had enough fun. Let's try something else."

Don finally got his breathing back under control and banished the dark spots at the edge of his vision. He was in time to see Dean land sprawling across from him against another set of shelves. Best pulled some chalk out of his pocket and started to draw some symbols on the floor. Dean was recovering but froze when he saw the marks Best was making.

"Not that," Dean gasped out.

Not understanding what Dean was on about or what the symbols meant Don got himself upright and cast about for a new weapon finding himself next to same section of shelving where he'd found the cam shaft. He selected another hunk of heavy metal that fitted reasonably well into his hand. He wasn't sure what it was exactly but the size and more importantly the weight were perfect. The first attempt may have failed but this time Best was distracted and facing away from him presenting a good target as he chanted some gibberish. Winding up as Dean started chanting something in counterpoint to Best he let fly.

Finally things were going their way, the hunk of metal found its target on the back of Best's head and the man went down without a sound, out cold before hitting the floor. Don had seen that before however and had another piece of metal in hand as he closed in to secure him.

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	9. Chapter 9

Numb3rs/Supernatural: Alliance

_**Disclaimer**__ – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs, Supernatural and associated characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Anything you don't recognise is a product of my imagination._

* * *

**CHAPTER NINE**

"He's down?" Dean asked as he picked himself up.

"I think so." Seeing Dean moving in his peripheral vision Don didn't dare look away from Best but he could see enough to tell that Dean was checking on his brother.

Don kept his right hand and the piece of heavy metal up and ready as he carefully reached for the artery at the side of Best's neck. Feeling a steady pulse Don felt relieved, the lump of metal he'd thrown at the man's head could have killed him. The next step though was to be sure that Best was out cold so he pressed a finger hard into the pressure point at the angle of the man's jaw. Best didn't move. Allowing his improvised weapon to drop by his feet Don worked to pull the man around so he could get the arms behind the back ready for cuffing. Best's size and dead weight didn't make the job easy so it was a long few seconds before Don was pulling his cuffs free from their holder. Don moved with more speed as Best showed signs of recovery, the cuffs jangling.

"Don't bother with the cuffs."

Don froze momentarily after getting the first cuff on at the tone in the voice. After a deep breath he finished his task, closing the second cuff and twisting the lock before turning. He had expected Dean to try something and whilst he hadn't yet figured out how he was going to stop him, he certainly didn't need Best taking advantage of the situation once he recovered.

Stepping slightly away, out of the range of anything that Best might try Don looked over to see that Sam was free of his chains and sitting on the ground. More urgently he saw that Dean had somehow found his gun and as he watched Dean brought it up. Don wasn't quite sure who the weapon was aimed at, himself or the groggy prisoner, and he automatically cast a quick glance around the half of the room he could easily see looking for his primary gun but couldn't see it.

"He's under arrest," Don said clearly.

"He's mine." Dean's statement was full of menace.

"No."

Dean took an unsteady step closer, his earlier injuries exacerbated during the struggle. Despite his condition Dean had plenty of determination to hold his gun steady. "Get out of the way."

"No." Don blocked Dean's aim, the Winchester's intent clear enough. The gun shifted slightly in response so it wasn't pointed directly at him, more at the man he clearly wanted to kill. "I can't let you do this."

"You don't understand how this works, we look after our own. Sort out our own messes."

"So that's why you came to me, came to a fed, right?" Don argued, bluntly pointing out the major flaw in Dean's words. "You can't have it both ways."

"I can have it any way I want." Dean growled back. He jerked the gun sideways, further demand for the agent to step aside. It was ignored. "This is something I have to do."

"And this is what I have to do. He's under arrest, I'm taking him in. As my prisoner I have to protect him." He glanced back to see said prisoner staring back at him having recovered enough of his wits to follow the conversation. Don's lip curled, "Even if I don't like it."

"He's gonna die," Dean stated with absolute conviction. "He took Sam and cut him."

Don spared a quick look at the younger man. He couldn't clearly see the injuries from where he stood but there certainly was enough blood for what Dean said to be true. There was also a low bench near where Sam had been chained that held a number of knives and other objects that lead Don to the conclusion that Best had indeed started torturing his victim as part of his ritual.

"Yes. Yes, he is," Don finally agreed, "but not here and not by your hand. The state will take care of that after the trial."

"What trial? Not like Sam's gonna testify." Dean pointed out.

Whilst it would be ideal, a survivor on the stand was about the best testimony they could get, Don knew that wasn't going to be happening. They were going to be relying on forensic evidence but Don was confident they had more than enough of that, particularly now with Best in custody to test against, to ensure the right result. The serial killer wasn't going to be escaping his penalty.

"He's going to trial."

"Get out of the way." Dean ordered, taking another step closer.

The muzzle of the gun shifted deliberately. There wasn't any doubt now, it was aimed at him. There had been a number of times Dean that had pointed his weapon at him in the hours they'd been together, but this time was different, something that was more than clear by the tone in Dean's voice. Swallowing, he stood his ground. "You're going to kill me to get to him?"

Dean didn't answer but took another step closer.

"Is this going to be the way it is?" Don continued. He had to crack through Dean's single-minded resolve. "Everything you've told me 'til now has been a lie and everything in our files about you is true? Use me until you get what you want then kill me? You're no better than he is, a murderer."

Dean's face flushed with even more anger as the words penetrated. "Won't kill you, but I will go through you."

That was something but really didn't change anything. "But you'll kill him, right? Murder a man in cuffs?"

Dean scowled as he stopped advancing.

"Hah, got you there, Dean-boy." Best interrupted from the floor. "This is some sort of code of yours isn't it? Gotta fight fair, right?"

Both Don and Dean looked down and unbeknownst to them, they shared the same expression, deeply felt contempt and disgust. "Shut up!" They both snapped at the same time.

"Dean?" A weak voice called after a wet sounding cough.

"Sammy?" Dean responded not glancing away from the agent or his target. "I'm right here, Sammy."

"Gotta go."

Don flicked his gaze away from Dean and saw Sam struggling to his feet, going down once before making it up.

"I know. Just have to finish this first."

"Cops."

Now that they'd been alerted to it both Dean and Don heard the approaching sirens.

"You have to get out of here," Don said.

Dean glanced back as Sam shuffled towards him but quickly returned his gaze to the prone man and the agent blocking his way. His left arm curled across his wounded side as his right tightened on his gun. "Get out of my way."

"No," Don repeated. If Dean wasn't worried for himself he should be worried about his brother. "You don't have time for this. Get Sam out of here."

"Dean, come on," Sam managed. He was sounding stronger as he found some sort of reserve of strength. He made it to Dean's side. "You can't kill him, if he dies here, now, the portal will open. We have to make sure the spell is properly shut down."

The expression on Dean's face showed that he hadn't thought of that. "All the working is done?"

Sam nodded. "He was just taking his time on the sacrifice. He dies, he takes my place. We don't need a fallen angel with everything else."

"No, we don't need that," Dean agreed as his younger brother echoed his earlier words. "But what he did-"

"He will pay for," Don finished. Dean was wavering, the threat of this spell or whatever seemed to have done the trick. Don had no idea whether it was true or not but it hardly mattered. A death here, particularly a death in custody, was not going to help anyone. Justice needed to be done for the murder victims and that could only happen through a trial. He had no doubt an execution would eventually follow. Until then Best would be secure and far from able to hurt other innocents.

"How much time we got?" Dean suddenly asked, lowering his gun and turning to help Sam.

About to answer Don realised that he should have been hearing calls over his radio if backup was close enough for him to hear their sirens, sirens that had now fallen silent before the potential target could determine their exact location. He touched his ear only to find the earbud had come dislodged during the fight. Putting it back in he heard various voices as agents organised to mount their raid.

He pressed his transmit button, "This is 3695. I have the offender in custody."

"_Don?"_ Colby's voice responded. _"What's your location?"_

The agent didn't respond but instead spoke to Dean. "They're close, you need to go."

"How close?"

"Colby, I'm in the building with the red roof. Watch out for tripwires on the way in." Don radioed back. "Your location?"

"_What side of the building are you in, the Pacific or the Atlantic?"_ Colby asked.

It was code, Colby was seeking confirmation of whether Don was under duress or not. For his part Don wasn't quite sure. He fixed Dean with a pointed look. "We good?"

Dean exchanged his own look with his brother, receiving a nod. "If we can make it out clean, we'll go."

It would have to do. "Colby, Pacific," He radioed, giving the all clear. "I have him down in the basement."

"_Okay, Don. What's our best approach?"_

"Come in through the south side of the building. I counted three tripwires but there could be worse traps on the other approaches." Don advised. It was all true but also gave the Winchesters their direction of escape, if they moved quickly.

"_Roger that,"_ Colby answered. _"We're about two minutes away from action."_

Don responded with a double click of his transmit button. "Two minutes, Dean."

Dean didn't waste any more time but started to help Sam away. He got to the end of the shelves before suddenly turning back, leaving Sam to hang onto the shelf. Don moved but wasn't quick enough to prevent the vicious kick Dean delivered to Best's back.

Dean dusted off his hands and backed away. "Now we're good."

"That's assault," Best complained as Dean rejoined Sam and they disappeared around the end of the shelves and started up the stairs.

"Didn't see a thing," Don snapped.

Best shifted so he moved in, shoving him back down with his foot and holding him down. The wait seemed interminable but eventually the SWAT team made it safely to the basement and took Best into custody, muscling him up the stairs.

"Don, you alright?" Colby asked as he saw his boss had undone the velcro straps on his vest and was rubbing a hand over his chest underneath it. He shone his flashlight over Don's vest and saw the damage. "You've been hit?"

"The vest caught it," Don answered. "I'll be fine. We need Forensics down here to get this processed."

"On their way." Colby went over to the chains and noted the fresh blood on the floor. "Where's the victim? Already killed and disposed of?"

Figuring that Best had no incentive to keep his mouth shut Don knew the truth was the only avenue he could take. "The victim was Sam Winchester. His brother was pulling him out when I got here."

"The Winchesters?" Colby repeated in surprise and no small degree of alarm. "They shot you?"

"No, that was Best. Dean actually helped me take Best down. But he still had his gun and I'd lost mine so I couldn't stop him taking Sam and escaping."

"I'll get an APB out for them and a medic in for you," the younger agent said reaching for his radio.

N3/SPN

Two days later Best was locked down awaiting his trial and teams of agents were working on the paperwork tying the man to the series of murders, the attempted murder of the final victim and the attempted murder of an FBI agent.

Don was resting at home, taking some well earned days off. He'd survived a grilling from Wright over the involvement of the Winchesters and also his failure to locate his informant as he'd been ordered. Fortunately Wright didn't connect the two together, so as far as he was concerned he'd gotten off lightly. There had also been no questions about the mystery agent who'd been with him when he spoke to the store holder. It seemed that the capture of the serial killer was proving suitably distracting. How long that would last Don didn't know but he would take what he got.

Given that he'd had four official encounters with the Winchester brothers Don was now regarded as the best thing they had to an expert on the wanted men so he had meetings scheduled later in the week with agents from the Behavioural Science Unit who were flying in from Washington. His own skills as a profiler were being put to good use schooling himself in what information he could give based on the official contacts he'd had with the pair. Letting on that he'd spent almost a whole day with the older Winchester was not going to help him any. He wasn't looking forward to those interviews but he was confident he'd manage.

Interrupting his thoughts his cell rang, the caller ID coming up as blocked. There had been several such ID blocked calls, normal in his line of work, but none were the one he was waiting for. As he accepted the call he hoped this would be the one.

"Eppes."

"_Hello, Fed,"_ Dean Winchester drawled. _"You copping much heat?"_

"I had to tell them you were there," Don said, "at the end anyway. You were getting Sam out and helped me take Best down."

There was a snort on the line as Dean digested the slant the agent put on the takedown, he saw things a little differently. _"What'd they think of Sam and me getting away?"_

"Since you had a gun and I didn't they understood that I couldn't stop you."

"_See, told you it would work out,"_ the other man said.

"What about the portal thing?" Don asked, feeling silly as he said it.

"_Bobby came through with the lore and we got the spell shut down. It's safe now if someone dies there."_

Having the abandoned building categorised as 'safe' for someone to die in was a strange one but given who he was dealing with it was par for the course. From his experimentation with religion he had some idea what a fallen angel was and had looked up the one Best had been trying to summon to find its very name meant 'violence'. It was a relief that whatever it was the Winchesters did, the fallen angel wasn't going to return to earth.

"How's Sam?" Whilst the younger Winchester had been mobile he'd still been seriously hurt. "You had him seen by that, er, witch?"

"_Something like that."_ Dean laughed at Don's hesitant use of the word. He sobered and it was his turn to stumble over his words. _"Sam's good. ... Look, I um, you know ... Damn it, I'm just gonna say it, alright? Thank-you. You need something from me, you call, okay?"_

Calling in that marker was not something he was going to do anytime soon, he hoped, but he understood where Dean was coming from. Debts paid and owed. "I'm just glad we got Sam out and Best locked away where he belongs."

"_As long as he stays there,"_ Dean responded, his voice tight now with anger. The man had hurt his brother and Dean clearly wasn't going to let that go. _"He gets out, you won't find the pieces."_

"Be careful," Don found himself saying to the tone in his ear as Dean had already hung up. They operated far outside of any rule book that Don was comfortable with but his time with Dean had strengthened his burgeoning belief that at the end of the day the Winchesters were trying to do good, in their own way, in a very dangerous world that Don was more than happy to stay away from.

As to Dean's parting threat regarding Best if the man ever got out of custody? Don decided he could live with that.

END

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End file.
